Page 42 of Cowboy
It doesn’t take long for us to get to Jerry’s house. The second we’re off our bikes, Pyro’s there. “This shit is some of the worst I’ve seen,” he growls.
Jer’s face is grim as we approach. "Glad you’re here. We’re going to need all hands on deck."
"Is it a trafficking ring?" Bozo asks.
He nods. "Sort of. The women we rescued? They're not just random victims. They were targeted."
"Targeted?" I ask, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. "What do you mean?"
Jer runs a hand through his hair. He’s frustrated as hell. "Basically, someone pays a fucking lot of money for someone, they give a detailed description, and then they’re delivered to that person."
Fucking scum, that’s what they are.
"How young are we talking?" Bozo asks, his voice darker than before.
Pyro shakes his head. “The youngest Jer’s men found was six months old.”
Christ, what the fuck? Who the hell are these sick cunts?
Bozo walks into the house, no doubt intending to find Grà.
“Cowboy,” Jer begins. “Son, you need to brace.”
I’m on alert instantly. “What?” I practically bark.
I watch as Py and Jer share a look. “Come on,” Jer tells me as he enters the house.
I round the corner to the kitchen and my world tilts completely. There, sitting at the kitchen table, is Caoimhe. She looks gaunt, her eyes haunted, but it's unmistakably her. For a moment, I can't breathe, can't move.
“Caoimhe?” I growl, my voice rough. I'm across the room in two strides, pulling her into my arms.
“Ciarán,” she says, shuddering against me. “Ciarán,” she whimpers.
“I’ve got you, Caoimhe,” I say gently, so fucking glad that she’s in my arms. “You’re coming with me,” I tell her, my tone brooking no arguments. I turn to Jer. “I want to know everything,” I snap before walking out of the room with Caoimhe still in my arms.
That fucker should have called me. Hell, my fucking president should have called me. There’s not a fucking chance they didn’t know who she was.
“Ciarán,” Caoimhe says as she burrows against my chest. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
I hold her tighter, almost afraid she'll disappear if I let go. "I never stopped looking for you," I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. "Every day, every fucking hour, I was trying to find you."
Caoimhe pulls back slightly, her eyes searching my face. "Really?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.
"Really," I affirm, cupping her face gently. "I never gave up hope."
She leans into my touch, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, there's a flicker of the old Caoimhe there, but it's quickly overshadowed by fear she takes a step backward, almost as though she’s afraid of me.
What the fuck happened to her?
“I promise you, Caoimhe, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She blinks, tears coating her eyes. “I know that,” she whispers. “I really do. It’s just hard.”
I close my eyes, trying my hardest not to lose my damn mind and demand answers as to what happened to her.
“Let’s get you out of here. We’ll get you some clean clothes and a shower.”
She gives me a small smile. “That would be good, but there's something you need to know. I'm not alone."
